


Something Beautiful

by KalendraAshtar



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Complete, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Rom-com, love square
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KalendraAshtar/pseuds/KalendraAshtar
Summary: Claire Beauchamp, successful emergency physician, secretly harbours feelings for her best friend's fiancé, Frank Randall. With the help of her long time friend, neighbour and confidant, James Fraser, she is forced to search her heart until she finds something beautiful.





	1. Duck

##  **_Something Beautiful_ **

##  _**Part I - Duck** _

The nuptials of Geillis Duncan and Frank Randall promised to be the social event of the season in Aberdeen. Squeezed between the rivers of  _Dee_  and  _Don_  (undoubtedly named by someone prone to alliteration and unafraid of jokes), not much else happened that could truly shake  _Granite City_  to its core.

I had several concerns when it came to such a wedding: I had yet to find a suitable gift that wouldn’t meet its fate in some forlorn back shelf; I had four pounds to lose to ensure the perfect fit of my aqua bridesmaid’s dress; I had to plan Geillis’ coming bachelorette weekend in Glasgow; and there was, of course, the small fact that I was just  _a tad_  in love with my best friend’s groom to be.  

It wasn’t something that I had planned with method and intention, like a grocery list or a dentist appointment. My feelings for Frank had started like a soft knock on the door of my mind, a type of fluttering alert that made me tiptoe towards it in curiosity; finally, when I reached out and fully opened that door, they rushed through me like an inconsiderate burglar, forcing me to spill the secret code of the vault of my heart. I think I didn’t realize how deeply I was into him until they announced their engagement, six months before – fragments of that night swirled inside the liquor of my mind, memories like misted glass, where I could trace words that meant deception.

Geillis was an old friend, back from a time when we used training wheels on our bikes and tried to escape brushing our teeth after dinner. Frank came much later, an acquaintance made in the dimness of a freshman party at  _North East Scotland College_  campus, his lithe frame pressed against a hallway that smelt of ale and roasted peanuts. He was endearingly overdressed for the occasion, acted like a man with a purpose and we were both thoroughly fascinated.

Frank was into human History; we into human mystery (the closest career available, besides seer, was medicine - so both of us enrolled in medical school). We frequently went out like a trio and things seemed to have settled into that easiness of a good, solid, friendzone. But during our second year I severely sprained my ankle, clumsy by nature and reckless by disposition, and had to spend a week at home with my foot propped up. During that time, my friends had found a common way out of friendzone and into – well –  _naked-together-in-bed district_.

I trotted out of my house, a lovely cottage near the costal area of Aberdeen, and crossed the narrow road towards the house immediately in front. Making sure that no keychain with a funko pop Voldemort was dangling from the doorknob – the warning sign we had agreed upon, whenever he had  _company_  -, I didn’t bother knocking and went straight inside.

“Duck, are you home?” I called out, distractedly kicking off my shoes by the door. I heard a muffled greeting and peeked through the kitchen door, where my  _other_  best friend was stuffing his face with a generous breakfast, still wearing his dark blue uniform from work.

“Hey, Sassenach.” Jamie playfully pulled a strand of my curly hair when I approached him,  munching placidly. “Want some?”

“Is that haggis?” I sniffed primly, my face contorting in a purely disgusted grimace. “You do realize it’s not even nine o’clock yet?”

He shrugged in a clear  _more-to-me-then_  kind of way, offering me a wink that was like a failed high-risk stunt. “I havena slept in over thirthy-six hours. It was either this or going for Adso’s wet cat food.”

“Bad shift, huh?” I perched myself on a high bench next to him, feeling a bit like a curious rooster. Jamie looked properly knackered, even if he remained sunny and pleasant, like the first days of thaw.

“Aye.” He huffed, refilling his glass with orange juice and passing me a mug of dark coffee. “A fishing boat turned on the North Sea. My team had to go in – almost lost one lad that panicked, but we managed to save the entire crew.”

I had met James Fraser in college too; he and Frank were part of the lauded diving team, and we had gone out for pints in the local pub a few times after their practice. We became fast friends and our connection kept him in our cluster even when he decided to drop out of university to travel the world for a year.

When he finally returned to our shores, Jamie chose to apply for  _Her Majesty’s Coastguard_  and after months of gruelling training in the academy he became a Coastguard Rescue Officer, stationed at  _Aberdeen’s Operation Centre_. I knew – with no small amount of pride – that he was one of the top specialists in the  _Search and Rescue_ team, with a saving count that surpassed any other diver his age. His compassion and impulsiveness scared me shitless, nonetheless – I was terrified that he would get himself killed, while trying to accomplish the impossible.

“So, are ye going to Geillis’ dinner party tonight?” He asked, his tired blue eyes quickly scanning the local newspaper, where the main headline read  _“High stakes rescue”_  followed by an airborne picture of the disaster.

“Are  _you_?” I questioned back, tapping my fingers slowly on the countertop. I tried to spend as little time as I could in the happy couple’s vicinity those days, fearing I would eventually throw up or make a fool of myself.

“I asked ye first!” Jamie turned to me and crossed his arms after mussing up his hair, that was a perfect blend of autumn leaves and rich spices. “Why wouldn’t ye go?”

“You don’t seem all that excited  _yourself_.” I retorted defensively, busying myself with folding and unfolding a napkin repeatedly.

“I just spent six hours in mild hypothermia and can barely feel my legs, lass.” He raised a ruddy brow in challenge. “What’s  _yer excuse_?”

I opened and closed my mouth like a blowfish suffering from sudden oxygen deprivation. “I… don’t have anything decent to wear.”

“I think  _Her Royal Highness_  Kate Middleton isna gracing us with her presence to share a cheeseboard, so ye should be fine with jeans a sweater, Sassenach.” Jamie rolled his eyes, starting to do his breakfast dishes.

“It’s a wonder to me how you float at all, Duck.” I wagged my tongue at him in a playful grimace. “All that wit weighing you down, you should go down like a rock.”

“Shouldn’t ye be repairing mangled patients at the hospital, instead of offending me at my own home?” He splashed a little lathered water in my direction, and I swiftly ducked to avoid it.

“I’m off today.” I shrugged, hitting him in the shoulder with a fluffy and moist dish towel in retribution. “I need to be entertained.”

We formed a perfect team, working in tandem. Jamie fished human wreckage out of raging waters so I could quickly patch the victims, when they were transported to the A&E department of the  _Aberdeen Royal Infirmary_ , where I worked as an emergency physician. I used to joke and tell him he kept business  _afloat_  for me.

“Fine, Sassenach. Ye ken my  _Netflix_  password, so suit yerself while I sleep to my hearts content.” He yawned and stretched himself languidly, the hem of his uniform raising just enough to show his impeccably carved  _rectus abdominis_. “I’ll raise from the deid in time to accompany ye to the dinner party. Ye should make it count and talk to Frank, while we’re there.”

“What do you mean?” I questioned, thoroughly taken aback, following him across the living room. Adso opened an eye and meowed softly from his advanced post, defending the trenches of pillows and soft quilts on the couch from possible invaders ( _me_ ).

Jamie sighed audibly and halted all of the sudden, making me almost bump into his back like an ungainly shadow. He turned and grabbed my wrist, his thumb gently grazing the projection of bone. “Ye ken  _what I mean_. Ye should tell him  _how ye feel_  – see if it makes a difference to him or not.” A quick shadow crossed his indigo eyes, a swift flight of a sea eagle close to the watery surface, descending for prey. “Feelings like that…they seldom go away, if there’s no actual closure. Ye canna put this behind yer back if ye’re not honest. The thought of him will never leave ye alone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I mumbled weakly, striving to give him a dumbfounded smile. The thought of stammering my way through an awkward confession had crossed my mind – both in wakefulness and in my dreams –, but the tearjerker rendezvous of my imagination was always bombarded by the missile of Geillis existence. Claire Beauchamp, making a pass  _on her friend’s fiancé_ , the ultimate betrayal of any friendship _._ The type of woman my mother’s Pilates friends called “ _homewrecker_ ”, “ _sex kitten_ ” and “ _temptress_ ”.

Jamie placed his hands in his pants’ pockets and tilted his head to study me intently, a light smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I save people from drowning, Sassenach. And ye know what they all do, when water starts swarming in their lungs, and their legs feel like fuckin’ lead? They squirm and trash and fight against it like hell.” He turned and started to climb the stairs up to his bedroom, bellowing above his shoulder. “And ye’re  _drowning_.”


	2. Eat the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely feedback on Part I! Holding you all against my heart. I recommend to listen to the song mentioned in the chapter, if you can. X

##  **_Part II – Eat the Sky_ **

Feeling slightly guilty that I had spent the majority of my afternoon using Jamie’s big flat telly to watch movies with Noah Centineo (the boy was  _barely legal_ , but such a  _sweetheart_ ), I vacuumed his living room before I head back home to change for dinner ( _mostly to hide away the crumbs of the pricy chocolate cookies I had eaten from his cabinet_ ). He was still asleep when I left, but I knew he could shower and get dressed quicker than I could say “ _Wayne went to Wales to watch walruses_ ” - he had a lot of practice with his job in being expeditious.

While royalty wasn’t indeed expected for dinner, Geillis had a much-deserved reputation of throwing lavish dinner parties; with her wedding just around the corner, I wasn’t counting on her dialling it down. With that in mind, I opted for a form-fitting midi dress in light blue lace, paired with a pair of high-heeled sandals that I could actually bear for more than five minutes.

When I was ready, I grabbed my indigo handbag and trotted to Jamie’s house, inhaling the balmy hair of a rare Scottish day that whispered of summer. He was standing on the porch, his hair mimicking the perfect sundown in the light of coming dusk, his face rotated to look at the sea on the horizon.

“Had a nice nap, Duck?” I chirped, carefully climbing the stairs to avoid getting stuck on the old boards with my heels.

He turned his neck to glance at me and the corners of his lips trembled. “ _That is not_  jeans and a sweater, Sassenach.” Jamie hawked slightly, as if his throat was painfully scratchy. “At least ye combed yer hair, I guess. Those small victories to be grateful for.”

I scowled and swatted him on his powerful arm - he had the decency of pretending that it hurt. “Maybe we should take something for the hosts. A bottle of whisky? Or some fruit?”

“I’m already takin’ my charming presence.” Jamie rolled his eyes in exasperation and shrugged. “If I ken Geillis, she’ll have enough food to feed one or two small countries for a week. Let’s get going, Sassenach.”

The table on Geillis’ yard - atmospherically lighted by numerous candles protected by glass vases and decorated with little flower bouquets – whined under the weight of a true feast. We greeted Mary, John, Rachel and Denzel and had our hands swiftly filled with a chalice of Port wine by Geillis, radiant in her black dress.

“Ye must sit close to me, Claire.” The hostess commanded, squeezing my forearm. “We need to talk about our trip to Glasgow.”

“Are ye about to ruin my appetite talking about male strippers?” Jamie joked, quirking a brow.

“I didna ken ye had such a fragile stomach, Fraser.” Geillis retorted, her nostrils flaring in amusement. “Besides, none of the present lasses has seen yer bobby to compare it to those of such men, so dinna be concerned with yer reputation.”

“I’d tell ye to sod off, but ye’re feeding me tonight – so I’ll just thank ye for yer consideration,  _Chucky’s bride_.” The Scottish man put his arm around Geillis’ shoulders as they laughed together. I sat down next to Jamie, across from Geillis and Frank – the groom-to-be had just arrived, after being sent on a last-minute mission to get more ice.

“Won’t you try some of these nuts with honey, Claire?” Frank offered me a bowl of crunchy and sticky dried fruits. “They are delicious. It’s my mother’s secret recipe.”

“She’s allergic to nuts.” Jamie announced, faster than I could open my mouth to reply.

“Not to  _all nuts_ , I hope.” Geillis winked, sipping from her glass of red wine. I almost choked on a slice of camembert. “That would make for a very tedious and sad life, babe.”

“Yes.  _You’re nuts_  and I handle you well enough.” I raised my glass and winked back at her.

The dinner progressed pleasantly, as we chatted about events at work, Jamie’s latest rescue exploit and wedding details. I listened more than talked, smiling politely and offering encouraging nods and exclamations, feeling a bittersweetness taking over me that had nothing to do with the lemon on the chicken or the gooey berries on the cheesecake.

After the formal meal ended the guests scattered around the garden, drinking liquors, chatting and dancing along the music streaming from the speakers lurking in the corner. Jamie went searching for “ _decent whisky_ ” and Geillis was spilling the beans on her hush-hush wedding gown to a couple of our co-workers, far away from Frank’s ears as tradition demanded.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, Claire.” Frank commented, his brow slightly frowned in concern, enhancing his hazel eyes. “Is something troubling you?”

My ridiculous heart leapt with the mere thought that he had noticed my sombre disposition. “Oh. I guess I’m just feeling a tad…melancholic.” I swallowed hard. “So many things are changing, and I feel like I’m stubbornly standing still.”  

“And what do you think you should be moving towards, then?” He smiled in complicity, leaning forward to speak closer to me. “Or to whom?”

I could feel my heart beating madly, the courageous struggle of my ribs to contain it. I licked my lips, feeling entirely breathless. “I – Well, I-“

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I love this song!” Geillis hugged Frank from behind, kissing his cheek with a loud pop. “Come and dance with me, Wolvie.” Franklin Wolverton Randall, descendent of nobility, turned adoring  _Wolvie_ at the hands of Geillis Duncan.

I darkly watched them walking away and starting to dance, glued together like mussels on rocks, brushing my forehead to try and ease the tension forming there.

“Why so grumpy,  _ma dame blanche_?” Jamie slid to the chair next to mine, a tumbler of fragrant whisky on his hand. “Aren’t ye enjoying the party, Sassenach?”

“I’m tired.” I whispered softly – and it wasn’t a lie. _I was tired_ , not physically, but from the effort of harbouring and containing feelings I didn’t want to possess. Of walking to the precipice just to look below and discover I would not survive the fall; but also, that to stay put meant to live forever on the edge, on a small square of ground that was land of no-one.

“Not  _too tired_  to take that ol’ skeleton to boogie with yer best mate, I hope?” He smirked and offered me his open palm, on a clear invitation to dance. “Ye do remember this song, aye?”

Back when we were in college, on the eve of Jamie’s departure to his big wandering palooza, we hit town together – just the two of us, saying goodbye our way. We found an obsolete little nightclub, specialized in 80s and 90s music, with an old doorman that was almost surprised that we _actually_   _wanted_  to get inside.

The poorly lit dance floor had no dancers to speak of, so Jamie and I went completely bonkers, comically waltzing to Whitney Houston’s songs and trying to replicate the infamous lift from  _Dirty Dancing_. I remember the queer sensation of laughing with my whole body, until everything ached from the inside out. Underneath the mirror ball, we sang Just  _Like Heaven_ from the top of our lungs, holding imaginary microphones. I might have fallen down in raucous laughter after Jamie twirled me one too many times.

After we left the disco in the little hours of night – and for the first and last time in our lives – we smoked a skunk together, provided by one of Jamie’s diving team pals as a parting gift. We sat on the square close to  _Aberdeen’s City Council_  exchanging slurred nonsensical phrases and giggles. I think I told him “ _I want to eat the sky_ ” at some point, and he answered with a grave “ _I’ll see to it_ ”. After the early-morning sprinklers on the lawn chased us away, we ran together, half-soaked, until we found an open bakery where Jamie bought me a cookie with little blue stars made of sugar paste.

It was  _The Cure_  booming on the stereo, the first guitar chords alive on the night’s breeze; I couldn’t deny him  _our song_. I splayed my palm against his, sighing in defeat, and allowed him to lead me to the improvised dancefloor on the lawn, illuminated by fairy lights hanging from the yew tree.

I rotated my ankle in momentary apprehension, but Jamie promptly fixed his eyes on me and moved his arms, pretending to swim; and then squeezed his nose and ducked, while he waved his hand, on a natural and completely careless dance move that would suit any  _not-cool-at-all-dad_. I knew he was trying his best to make me laugh,  _to forget myself._  “God, you’re  _impossible_ , Duck.”

I cackled and put my arms around his neck, starting to sway quickly along with the groovy rhythm. Close to my ear, Jamie’s tuneless voice wholeheartedly sang along  _“Why won’t you ever know that I’m in love with you…That I’m in love with you…”_


	3. Haircut

##  **_Part III –_**   ** _Haircut_**

“Geillis really is glowing, isn’t she?” My mother commented, thumbing through my _Instagram_  account, where she had invited herself to peek into last night’s dinner party. Geillis had tagged me on a photograph of her and Frank, holding each other by the waist, thanking all her friends for their presence. “They make such a nice couple.”

I uttered a guttural sound that could pass for agreement, while I perilously painted my toenails in black, struggling to balance the bottle of nail polish on my leg. It was lovely to have her around - I was thrilled every time she announced a visit to Aberdeen; but in all truth her capacity to read the hidden letters within me was quite worrisome, given how much I was trying to hide.

“How is Jamie?” My mother froze on the last picture I had posted on my profile, taken surreptitiously by John, showing Jamie and I dancing together. My face seemed on the verge of splitting in two from laughing, my cheeks flushed red and my hair curling madly around my shoulders.

“Good.” My tongue peeked through my teeth, as I frowned in deep concentration. “I invited him over for dinner, but he’s working tonight. Maybe he can come tomorrow.” I raised my eyes and caught the glimpse of an enigmatic smile on her face. “What?”

“You’re still convinced you fancy Frank, darling?” She asked carefully, her lips pressed together. I had drunkenly confessed my infatuation ( _over the phone, goddammit_ ) to her after Geillis and Frank’s engagement party and had thoroughly hoped she had pinned it on inebriation.

“Mum, please, can you not -” I protested furiously, missing a beat and smudging the entirety of my big toe with dark nail polish.

“If you’re about to tell me not to meddle, I’m packing my bags, Claire Elizabeth.” She asserted, raising a brow in challenge. “My right to pry is imprinted on your birth certificate. If you don’t want to talk about it, then we won’t, but eventually you’ll have to face the reason why this issue is so hard on you.”

“It’s hard because Frank is engaged, and you raised me right.” I said between teeth, angrily dabbing at my toe with a cotton ball. “Are you disappointed that I’m reluctant to ruin someone’s happiness?”

“I’m disappointed that you’re reluctant to find your own.” My mother sighed and gave me a narrow look, getting up to get her handbag. “I’ll be out of your hair this afternoon, but we need to talk eventually.”

Slightly limping on my flip flops, not wanting to ruin my meticulous work, I followed her outside of the house. Jamie was on his front porch, watering his disgustingly beautiful flower vases ( _to me, at least, a convicted house plant murderer. I did fairly well with the outside garden, though_ ).  

“If it isn’t my favourite Scotsman!” My mother placed her hands on her waist and tilted her head in delight. “Come over here and give me a proper hug, James Fraser!”

“It’s sae good to see ye, Mrs. Beauchamp.” Jamie gracefully jumped over the shrub and took my tiny mother in his arms, lifting her like a small child into a tight and tender hug. Out of all of my friends Jamie had always been her favourite, and she even became close-knit buddies with his own mother, Ellen Fraser. “It’s been longer than it should, aye?”

“I know, I know.” She affectionately patted his cheek and I could see she was in the midst of a motherly inspection on his nutritional state. “Cardiff University is keeping me busy, but I hope I can have more free time on this next semester.” My mum was a reputed economist and professor, currently serving as dean for the Cardiff Business School - one of the first women to be nominated for such a position in Wales, a fact that made me ridiculously proud. “I truly need to see more of you two, before I get too old and slow to keep up.”

“I doubt verra much  _that will ever happen_.” He guaranteed with a glint of mischief in his eyes, chivalrously kissing the back of her left hand, where two wedding rings slept entwined since my father’s death, more than twenty years before.

“Are you still single, Jamie?” My mother asked with a level of coolness and easiness that could only be attained when you stop caring about what other people think. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“I am, Mrs. B.” He winked owlishly, casually leaning against the front gate of his house. “Are ye finally taking me out on a date, then? I was losing hope of ever getting a chance.” Jamie joked.

“If only I was thirty years younger and several grey hairs wiser.” She smiled broadly, giving me a funny look. “Maybe we can set you up with the next best thing.”

“Maybe Duck will find himself a mermaid, with all the time he spends braving the seas.” I mocked, gathering my hair in a loose bun. “You’ll be late for tea with Mrs. Fitz if you stay here cavorting with Jamie all afternoon, mum.”

Glena was a friend of the family, since the time when a grief-stricken Julia Beauchamp had fled England after her husband’s sudden death, seeking the comfort of the absence of memories in Scotland. The powerhouse woman had been a source of infinite support for us both and she was the closest thing to a motherly figure when my own mother was abroad.

“ _Spoil-sport_.” She grunted, blowing me a kiss. “I’m going, I’m going. Make sure to find time for us to catch up, Jamie. I’ll see you later, dear.” She agilely entered her rented car and drove away, with the slightly annoying sound of tires protesting on the asphalt.

“I missed her.” I confessed to Jamie, coming to lean against the wall, close to him. “I never truly want to admit how much until she gets here.”

“Aye.” He smiled softly and his fathomless blue eyes glanced at me. “Do ye have time to cut my hair?” Jamie impatiently brushed a red wave away from his brow. “It’s getting too long and annoying, always gettin’ in the way. I still have a couple of hours before going in.”

“Sure.” I nodded. “Let’s get inside.”

I settled Jamie on the leather couch, with a white towel draped around his shoulders, while I perched on the back with his big frame between my knees. I whistled softly as I worked, combing his hair with a fine plastic comb and working the scissors with the measured precision of someone used to delicate manual procedures.

“Oh, you have a little mole here.” I traced the small dark spot behind his ear with the point of my fingernail and Jamie almost jumped from the coach, his skin coming alive with goosebumps. “Easy Duck, unless you want to go as  _George Weasley_  on Halloween this year.”

He grumbled something that sounded like  _“skittish”_  and remained very still, the thrum of his blood visible as I cut the soft hairs at his nape.

I remembered the first time I cut Jamie’s hair. It was right after he came back from his year off. After he landed, he had gone straight to the apartment I shared with Geillis at the time, and after I opened the door and saw him, I dissolved into a crying mess. His absence had been like a constant toothache, bearable but nagging me to the point of moodiness and sleeplessness.

_“I look like Tarzan”. He had joked, pointing to his auburn, roan and cinnamon mane. “I’ll give ye a fair shot at cutting my neck, if ye get rid of it for me.”_

With his hair sliding between my fingers to the floor, I couldn’t stop talking, words pouring out of me in relentless succession. I don’t think I can even remember half of it. I told him that I couldn’t stomach custard tarts anymore, because I had so many during a stressful exam season that I got nauseous just from the thought. I shared that I had applied to a three-month exchange program in Denmark for me general surgery rotation. I confessed that I had suffered through the worst sex of my life, after a series of only half satisfying dates with a lawyer student I met online. I babbled about this book that I read that made me cry and the song I had on repeat on my  _Spotify_  list and would he please save me from it? I told him that I finally knew what specialty I wanted to pursue and how that was simultaneously glorious and terrifying.

I had tried to fill with words the space that had been left empty between us. I had told him those things because, somehow, I felt that he should know. Eventually, he pulled me to the crook of his arm and whispered,  _“I missed ye too, Sassenach.”_

From that point onwards, I was always the one who cut his hair. It became a ritual to us,  _one of many_.

“Did ye talk to Frank last night, Claire?” Jamie asked haltingly, and I almost jabbed him in the neck with the antique blade I was using to shave the remaining fine hairs, jolted out of my reverie.

“We  _talked_.” I huffed. “But I didn’t go all  _Mister-Darcy_  on him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“What are ye waiting for?” He turned his head to glare at me, as I rubbed his neck with the towel a tad too forcefully.

“Jesus Christ, did you and my mother plotted together to give me hell today?” I slid from the upholstery, getting up on the couch.

“No, but since the two wisest people in yer life recommend the same, maybe there’s a point to it.” He grabbed my ankle and pulled me down to sit next to him, but I hit him with a fluffy pillow and jumped away.

“Why do you even care, Jamie?” I hissed, feeling increasingly outraged. “Don’t you think that maybe all this interest in my love life is a sign you should take care of yours?” I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my cheek, feeling slightly avenged, even if in the back of my mind a voice sang  _“stupid-stupid-stupid”_. I tried to breathe and commanded myself to make a lame joke, even if we both knew humour was lacking from my true intentions. “How long since you last  _shagged someone_ , Duck?”

“My balls arena blue yet.” Jamie’s eyes seemed to glow dangerously, narrowing into cat-like slits. “Why are you so defensive about this? I can ask about yer period, but not about the man ye have in yer heart?”

I silently counted to ten, and when ten failed to ease me, I  _proceeded until twenty_. “You need to back off, okay?”

I didn’t bloody  _know_  why I was so defensive. My life seemed to be a  _Jenga_  game; if I missed a step and removed the wrong piece, everything would come crumbling down. Fortunately, I was saved by Jamie’s phone ringing, which he promptly answered with a series of quick monosyllables.

“They are calling me in, some divers are in trouble over the caves.” He looked away from me, searching for his work bag and his  _HM Coastguard_  jacket. “I have to go.”

I nodded  _(seething_ ) and marched to the front door, slamming it shut behind me without saying goodbye.

My mother must have realized I was upset, because she kept the conversation innocuous during dinner that night, not pressing me about sensible matters (as she cheerfully chatted about classes, lazy students, Mrs. Fitz’ granddaughter and scones). I slept fitfully that night and went to work the next morning with a throbbing headache, that lingered like Jamie’s words banging on my inside walls.

Knowing that Jamie would be home that night, I parked my black car on the driveway and even before I entered my house I padded over to this place, meaning to apologize in that wordless manner that always worked between us.

But as I approached the entrance, the last glimmer of daylight was caught by a f _unko pop Voldemort_ , dangling from his doorknob in provocation.

Jamie had company for the night.


	4. Glasgow

##  **_Part IV –_**   ** _Glasgow_**

The thing about Frank was that he was the first man who didn’t seem bothered or threatened by my intellect or my marked independent streak; in fact, he seemed to find those traits somewhat endearing.

Throughout high school I had been confronted with some suitors, charmed by the generous curves I developed early on and by my no-nonsense nature, but they tended to lose interest as soon as they spent more than a couple of dates with me.  _“You don’t need me”_ , one had confessed after I pressed him against a wall, my knee dangerously close to his groin, _“men like to be needed”_.  Even boys that were my friends told me I was an  _alpha-female_ , a deeply unattractive quality from a dating perspective ( _immature and insecure idiots, all of them_ ).

When I read Frank’s long essay about  _Elizabeth Tudor, Gloriana,_ and her fascinating ruling years, I was convinced that he respected women who held their own. He paid attention when I talked, laughed humorously at my quick comebacks and didn’t criticize me for trying to do things on my own. And that, combined with his polished speech, brooding semblance and graceful manners lured me in completely. I didn’t _need him,_  and he seemed to be just fine with that.

But the thing is -  _he didn’t need me, too_.

I moved restlessly in the bed of my Glaswegian fancy-shmancy hotel, almost breathless from trying to run after sleep. We had arrived late at Glasgow and Geillis had decided that the official bachelorette weekend would only start next morning, so I was allowed to retire to my bedroom to overthink at leisure.

I sighed and grabbed my phone from the nightstand, ripping it out of the charger. I stared blankly at the screen for a couple of minutes, just to put it down again with too much emphasis. I rolled to my left side and pulled the sheet over my head, pressing my eyes closed until stars appeared behind my eyelids. I tried to play an imaginary chess game inside my head, to visualize endless fields of green and even to count black cats, but sleep stubbornly evaded me.

Giving up, I blindly groped for my phone again and pressed the message icon.

Claire:  _Are you still up?_

Jamie:  _Yes, at headquarters. Calm night. Shouldn’t you be well into an alcoholic stupor by now?_

Claire:  _Geillis is a true believer in beauty sleep. Awake and bored._

I looked at the dark ceiling, while the dancing three dots indicated that Jamie was typing an answer.

Jamie:  _Are we good? You didn’t say goodbye before your trip. I had lunch with your mum today and she was worried about you._

I bit my bottom lip, my heart rate strangely picking up pace. I could feel a flush creeping on my neck, like a hot wave from boiling water, and kicked the sheets away from my waist.  

Claire:  _I went by the house to talk. You were….busy? *eggplant emoji*_

Jamie: _Ah. Sorry, didn’t know you were coming over. Thought I should follow your recommendation…one of us should, hm?_

I pursed my lips and rubbed my cheek against the pillow, scratching a nagging itch on the fabric that seemed to come from my own throbbing blood.

Claire:  _Brilliant. Do I know her?_

A prolonged moment without answer, although the double blue ticks indicated he had seen my question. I licked my lips, almost cursing aloud for him to type  _something_.   _A gentleman never kisses and tells_ , finallyappeared on the screen.

Claire: _Just kissing? Are you dating a fourth-grader? *imp emoji*_

Jamie: _…I said nothing about mouths, Sassenach. *face with stuck-out tongue emoji*_

I groaned, feeling something sticky and slimy churning in my insides until I was almost nauseous, and quietly wondered if the egg-sandwich on the train had been less than pristine.

Claire:  _I’m starting to doubt this is really Duck I’m talking to. So frisky._

For a moment the three dots appeared again and then stopped. I nestled further into the bed, speculating if he had been called to some emergency, but then my phone vibrated, and a photo appeared on the screen of our  _Whatsapp_ conversation. It showed Jamie on a navy-blue  _HM Coastguard_ t-shirt, with mussed up and moist short hair and an uncanny glint in his eyes, holding a coffee mug.

Jamie:  _Proof of life. So - are we good? I won’t press you anymore. It’s your life, after all._

Instead of answering him directly, I snapped a photo and sent it to him. Long after we wrote goodbye for the night, I was still glaring at my photo - _winking in the half-dark and doing a thumbs-up sign_  -, wondering why I felt like crying so badly.

***

“I think a round of  _“Fuck, Marry, Kill”_  is in order.” Geillis proposed in a dangerous voice, leaning over the bar counter. After dinner with Mary, Rachel and Dottie at a swanky sushi restaurant, we had dragged our asses –  _snug in push-up pantyhose and stylish dresses_ – to a trendy cocktail bar. I raised a brow and sipped my tangy  _G &T_, observing as Geillis ordered a third  _Juniper Sling_  for herself. “Let’s start with ye, Claire. Let’s play with – say –  _Jamie, John and Frank_.” She licked her lips, as I stared at her befuddled. “Go!”

“Okay.” I nervously played with my earring, a black polished stone. “Kill John, definitely.” Geillis snorted and I shrugged.  _Of course I’d kill John_. “Well…then – I’d – I-“ I muttered weakly, almost feeling a bead of sweat sliding down my temple.

“Oh,  _I get it_.” The bride-to-be nodded enthusiastically, her hand almost dropping the beverage she was holding so lovingly. “It’s like the choice between  _Angel_  and  _Spike_. They are both delicious in their own way.”

“Did you just compare your fiancé to a vampire? From _Buffy_?” Rachel cackled, eating peanuts from the bowl in front of us. “And said that Jamie Fraser is  _delicious_? I need to film this to show at the wedding reception. It will be a massive hit.”

“So, Claire?” Geillis continued, unbothered. “Which is it?  _Tic, tac_.” She waved to the bartender and pointed at her glass, asking for another refill.

“Come on, Geil! Really?” I protested, gulping down half of my drink, until my brain felt happily chilled. She just stared back at me, with that look that said  _“It’s my party and I can make you cry if I want to”_. “Alright. I’d – I’d fuck Frank.” I spat out, almost without thinking. “And marry Jamie.”

My friend nodded, hooting openly. “Ye little hussy! I knew ye’d shag my man!”

“I’d also murder John Grey, apparently.” I said coolly, tossing a salted peanut at her head, which got stuck on her French braid. “I don’t see ye worrying about my murder instincts.”

“You and Jamie are so close, Claire.” Dottie stated slowly, lowering her voice as if we were conspiring in the back room to sell booze during the  _American Prohibition_. “Did you ever…?”

“No.” I said emphatically, shaking my head.  _In the recesses of my mind, his palm touched my face_. “He’s my best friend.” Geillis opened her eyes dramatically, simulating tremendous outrage. “My best  _male_ friend. It was never  _like that_  between us. We promised we’d always be there for each other and if we got all romantic and ruined it – and my God, I’d  _absolutely ruin it_ , just look at my relationship history – all would be lost. We need each other.”

“Maybe ye should tell him to stop doting on ye so hard, then.” Mary said softly, playing with the orange slice on the edge of her  _Pimm’s Cup_. “It will make it verra hard for some lass to be with him, if she always feels like a third-wheel.”

“He does not  _dote on me_!” I protested, my British accent growing thicker with the spirits and affront. “Just  _so you know_ ,” I waved an energetic index finger around my companions. “He had  _company_  just a few nights ago, at his place.”

“And were ye jealous?” Geillis asked, observant in spite of her growingly slurred speech.

“Of course not!” I said with finality. “They could be going over the whole  _Kama Sutra,_  for all I care about – traumatizing poor Adso for life.”

But as my friends’ raucous laughter filled my ears, already immersed in the next topic of conversation – Frank and Geillis’ honeymoon – I contemplated the dark side of my own feelings, evading light like little criminals, and decided to discover everything about Jamie’s new conquest.


	5. Spinster

##  **_Part V –_**   ** _Spinster_**

For my investigative efforts I had to get creative, since I highly doubted I could find a pair of knickers with an identifying tag, brazenly forgotten between the cushions of Jamie’s couch. Jamie was too well-mannered and good-hearted to brag about any sexual prowess; but I knew he had close friends in his workplace, and men reunited tended to wag their tongues looser.

Every year the emergency department of  _Aberdeen Royal Infirmary_ did a session with  _HM Coastguard’s Search & Rescue _team, to update on first response trauma techniques and to dust off any cobwebs from their basic first aid training.  I volunteered immediately when my superior announced the coming gathering and strolled inside Jamie’s headquarters wearing my smuggest smile, which matched beautifully with my  _Medical Emergency_  jacket.

I waved cheerfully at the men present, most of them familiar faces from previous meetings and outings with Jamie, and nonchalantly padded over to Gavin Hayes’s desk, one of Jamie’s best mates in the force, and the weakest link I had previously selected.

“Gavin!” I greeted him with genuine excitement, patting him on the shoulder. “How are you? It’s lovely to see you!”

“Hello, Claire.” Hayes smiled, somewhat taken aback by my uncanny enthusiasm. “Jamie didna tell me ye’d be the one handling the course today.”

“Well, he doesn’t know.” I winked, sitting on the edge of his desk and crossing my legs prettily, silencing any self-awareness protests. “I wanted to surprise him. Is he around now?” I turned my head rapidly, as if I suspected Jamie could be peeking behind my back; in all truth, I knew he was giving instruction to some green recruits at the pool and would arrive just in time for the training event.

“Not yet.” Gavin confirmed, sliding his chair slightly farther away from me, a fierce blush appearing on his cheeks. Although married since age twenty, Gavin Hayes wasn’t immune to some well-applied charm from a double-X-chromosome vixen.

“Oh.” I smiled broadly, fluttering my eyelashes a little – I briefly worried if it was  _too much_ , if it would look like I had gotten some irksome injury in my eye. “How is the missus?”

“Bonny.” He gulped down, twiddling with his chunky fingers, sporting a gold wedding ring. “She has been complaining a wee bit, sayin’ we dinna get out of the house much, ye see. Maybe ye have a suggestion, something I could do to please her?”

“Hmmm.” I pretended to think about his conundrum, slightly biting the tip of my nail. “Maybe you can go on a double date to a nice restaurant? With – say –  _Jamie and his new flame_?”

“ _New flame_?” Gavin gawked at me, his jaw almost dropping on the floor, his gentle brown eyes shadowed with confusion and a hint of apprehension. “Ye mean, Jamie and… _some lass_?”

I shrugged, smiling agreeably, and reigning in the will to grab him by the collar and put him bellow the bright yellow lamp, interrogation-style. “Jamie never showed other preferences, so I’d gather it’s a woman. He didn’t tell you anything about it?”

The coastguard glared at me with renewed interest, scrunching his nose, as if he was fighting against a violent sneeze. “Nay. I was under the impression Jamie wasna interested in – in  _dating around_.”

“And why would that be?” I raised a brow, muddled out of my alluring decoy. “He is single, is he not? Why wouldn’t he want to find someone?”

Gavin was positively sweating, his pupils dilated like a man in profound distress; I got the distinct impression he would prefer to plunge into the freezing  _North Sea_  waters fully disrobed come December, than to continue our merry conversation. “Well – huh – ye see –“

“Claire.” Jamie’s commanding voice almost made me jump from the desk. “What are ye doing here?” He was wearing a blue tracksuit, with the force’s motto stamped next to his heart (“ _Safer Lives, Safer Ships, Cleaner Seas_ ”), his cheeks rosy from his efforts at the pool.

“Teaching.” I gave Hayes a final narrow look, got up from the desk and walked to Jamie, squeezing his shoulder in passing. “Thought you’d be late for class, Duck.”

***

When training was done - and I had made sure everyone was up to speed on exposed fractures immobilization, third-degree burns protection and airway assessment -, I stayed behind to carefully pack the models we had used, storing away bandages, splints and cervical collars with Jamie’s help. I roared with laughter, until my belly ached, when Jamie covered his face and did a mummy impression.  

“What were ye talking about with Hayes before I arrived, Sassenach?” He eventually asked, neatly putting away foil blankets. “Ye looked – like ye were plotting to kill the queen, verra sleekit. The last time I saw ye being such a charmer, ye were trying to score Tom Christie’s ethics notes, back in college.”

I snorted, twisting the mass of my hair into a messy bun. I could go for plausible denial, but decided that a righteous path would probably offer me more information. “Since you tell me nothing these days, I was asking your friend if he knew about this mysterious girl of yours.”

“Slick move,  _Pink Panther_.” Jamie rolled his eyes, his jaw somewhat tensing. “I gather this means we can go back to meddle in each other’s business, then?” He locked his eyes with mine, a seriousness about his features that made me instantly uncomfortable. “Because I have something to say to ye. I think ye will never tell Frank what ye feel – maybe because of honour and duty; maybe because ye realize,  _deep down_ , it  _isna real_. What if he left Geillis to be with ye? Then ye’d be forced to realize he is flawed, as any man –  _and then what_?”

I felt a whirlwind rising inside me, the mighty grip like a fist before a devastating release. “Fuck you, James Fraser.” I thumped his chest with my finger, tears swarming in the corners of my eyes. “ _Fuck you_.”

I almost ran outside the building, towards my parked car, ignoring every face I encountered in my way. At distance, I knew Jamie had called my name several times, but I could barely hear him behind the thick curtain of the storm within.

The moment I entered my car, after struggling with the electronic key and cursing wholeheartedly,  _I felt it_.

It was one of those moments, as if a blindfold, impenetrable and heavy, had been lifted from my eyes. Suddenly I saw with staggering clarity, but my light-weary eyes couldn’t really fathom all that was mine to see, struggling to adjust to the new outlines of reality.

_The truth, finally._

I could never betray a friend, whom I loved dearly as a sister, even for the sake of finding my own happiness. Perhaps if I was searching for something that was actually mine to take, but never for a  _pipe dream_. Frank was my whimsical plan, the wonderland where I had travelled through the air on my dreams, when reality threatened to crush me.

I had idealized a man, up to the point where I was in love with a concept,  _not a person_. A man that I didn’t  _need_ , that I could remain whole without, that was safe for the lack of actually turning the verb into action. I had fallen in love with a  _safe feeling_ – mild, unconsummated - that would never love me back, but who would also never  _leave me, betray me_  or  _belittle me_.  

I started to cry then, in earnest, sobbing in wrecking spasms, my hands gripping the steering wheel until my palms ached.

I sensed someone opening my car’s door and then big, warm, arms encompassing me, a broad chest carrying the reassuring scent I used to feel, right before my dreams came at night. “ _Hush, Sassenach, hush_.”

I wailed and turned my head, pushing my face –  _eyes, mouth, runny nose, soul_ \- deeper into the crook of his neck as he held me, with the quiet promise of never letting go.  

“I’ll take ye home.” Jamie said softly, when I finally calmed down, taking my hand to guide me to the passenger seat. “I’ll come back for my car later.”

I nodded in agreement, speechless, noticing the huge stain formed by my tears on his sweater. Within moments we were driving down the coastal road, a light drizzle pouring from the sea.

“Will ye be alright?” He asked me softly, after a while.

My eyes had finally dried up and my throat felt like the hollow space inside a cork. “Yes. I think so.”

“What happened?” Jamie’s fingers lightly touched the back of my hand, aimlessly resting on my own leg, as he changed gears. “I’m sorry if I upset ye.”

“I just realized that -“ I stated slowly, my voice raspy, frowning at the view of the nearby sea outside the window. “That I’ll be  _a spinster_. I’ll be alone the rest of my life.” I cackled in a humourless way that was almost hysterical, feeling that I could continue to laugh forever until the sound turned my bones into dust. “I will be the crazy auntie to everyone’s children.” I looked at him, half-expecting him to laugh alongside me. “Hey, I should get a cat - or several! Maybe I can borrow Adso and – “

Jamie halted the car in such a sudden fashion, that the absence of a seatbelt would have meant being projected through the windscreen. His arms were tense, and he was biting his bottom lip in earnest, his eyes dark like tormented skies. “Jamie, what the fuck -”

“ _Get out_.” He said huskily, his voice so impossibly deep I barely recognized it. “Get out of the fecking car,  _Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp_.”

“What?” I mumbled in complete puzzlement, but freed myself from the seatbelt and rushed out of the vehicle. Outside, Jamie strode until he was standing inches away from me and, for the first time in years of mutual knowledge, I truly realized how imposing his figure was. “Look, I’m sorry that I’m always whining, but –“

“Ye really don’t have a clue, do ye?” His eyes searched mine and I felt paralyzed. “Ye dafty burd. Ye  _clueless, lovely, bonny, maddening numpty_.”

“Duck, you’re getting  _all Scottish_  and I’m not understanding your point.” I said tiredly, increasingly chilled by the constant heavy mist. “Frankly, can we not talk and just go home and watch  _Downton Abbey_  or something?”

“I’m done talkin’ too.” He whispered and suddenly, with a movement that surprised me completely – although he gave me just enough space to pull away eventually –, his lips were fully on mine.


	6. Ae Fond Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments and reactions! It means so much more than you know. X

##  **_Part VI –_**   ** _Ae Fond Kiss_**

Like a storm of enlightenment, three things hit me all at once.

I had never been kissed by a man who knew me irrevocably and still loved me.

I had never been kissed without some sort of previous contract (be it a crumpled paper thrown into my desk, folded in four, with  _“Will you be my girlfriend?”_  and  _“Yes”_  or  _“No”_ options to cross off; a dinner and movie, my male companion buying the popcorn as counterpart; or a hushed  _“keep it casual, shall we?”_  before groggy mouths collided in the half-darkness).

I had never been kissed by a man who did it quite like Jamie.

His hands were immersed in my hair, cradling me like rare painted porcelain, while his hot mouth ravaged mine thoroughly, my fists gripping the fabric of the front of his jumper. We stood there, on the side of the road, as lovers who had travelled from far away to look for each other, and met by the sea in slow motion.

Like a soap bubble with a rainbow trapped within suddenly bursting, we jumped apart when a car passed by us in high speed, the driver crassly yelling from the window _“Dinna swallow her, lad!”_.

We looked at each other, gobsmacked. Jamie’s shoulders trembled with barely suppressed guffaw and I roared with laughter, leaning over to brace myself on my own knees for support. When the tidal wave of hilarity receded, I felt exposed like a deep-sea creature experiencing the openness of the sandy shore. “You  _kissed me._ ” I uttered slowly.

“ _I did_.” Jamie needlessly confirmed, since my lips could still recall the outlines of his bold mouth. There was no regret in his voice, whatsoever; only calm tenderness, with a clear trace of victory and pride.

“You’ve  _been wanting to kiss me_.” I said, an accusing sentence that took a solid question mark as accomplice.

“Aye.” He gave me a lopsided-smile and I wondered, briefly, if his eyes had ever been that exact shade of blue before, the kind that made men go mad at sea. “Since about five minutes into knowing ye, Sassenach.” A pause, as I tried to swallow the solid weight of the words he had offered me. “Let’s get down to the beach, so we can sit and talk, without causing a traffic accident.”

We carefully descended through the slippery rocks, leaving my car safely parked on a viewpoint on the roadside. The drizzle had mercifully stopped, but the air was still heavy with moistness, the tang of the sea -  _salt, algae, weeping rocks_  - so intense I could taste it on the back of my tongue. Jamie’s hand hovered close to me, ready to help me whenever he felt me struggling for a safe grip, his touch meaningful in an entirely new form.

I remembered the day Jamie completed his  _Coastguard_  training.

_He had spent quite some time away training in a diving centre in Dorset, but fortunately came back to Aberdeen for the final leg of his instruction; I had been there during the formal ceremony, watching him receive his insignia, with joyful tears streaming down my face. Jamie was driving to Lallybroch, his family estate, for the weekend to celebrate with his family, but that night I had taken him to my house, where he was received with a gigantic cake and good whisky._

_I had baked the three-layer beast myself, after weeks researching recipes, watching Youtube videos and conducting floury experiments in my kitchen. Because I wasn’t that good with decorations, I placed a small rubber ducky on top of the chocolate frosting, navigating a sea of chopped strawberries._

_“Ah!” Jamie laughed and grabbed the duck, licking a bit of chocolate ganache from his finger. “Is this my new mascot, then? He looks like a bonny rescuer.”_

_After that day, I started calling him “Duck” and even offered him a t-shirt with a duck in sunglasses, the words “What the duck?” written in bold black lettering._

_Duck. The word that had derived from an Old English term. The word that meant “diver”. The name that was only mine to call him._

The same boldness that had driven Jamie during the hardships of becoming a rescue swimmer was undoubtedly guiding him down to the beach, so I was having trouble keeping up with his pace. Eventually, we sat on a fluffy pillow of sand, partially protected by a dune and its damp vegetation.

“Alright.” I hesitated, pushing the sleeves of my jacket to cover my wrists completely. “ _Tell me._ ”

“I love ye.” Jamie said, his voice clear and cutting like the breeze around us. I felt a flutter of wings inside my chest. “I dinna even ken how it is not to be in love with ye, anymore. And not only as yer friend - aye, I love ye with my heart and soul, but also with  _my body._  I love ye with the lines of the palms of my hands and the chill on my skin. Sometimes it’s in the back of my eyes and I almost feel like cryin’, and sometimes it’s in the middle of my shoulders and I could swear I’d grow wings and fly.” The column of his neck was pink and lovely, his big hands nervously playing with pools of gritty sand. “I ken these words sound ridiculous, but that’s how I feel about ye.  _Mostly ridiculous_  and not a care in the world for it.”

“But you never said anything!” I babbled, my lips uncomfortably cold, after experiencing scorching heat with him just moments before. The way he had talked about me was  _overwhelming_. “And you hooked with someone just a few days ago!”

“I didna.” He confessed sheepishly, his booted foot drawing a circle on the ground. “I was just a wee bit cross from what ye said and wanted -  _weil_ , I wanted to see if maybe I could make ye jealous.” Jamie raised his brows and looked at me intently. “Not my best behaviour, but I feel that I was somewhat successful.”

“I almost hired a bloody private detective.” I admitted with a hint of reproach, biting my every word. “Not that I was _jealous_  - I just needed… _very badly.._.to know.”

“Now ye do, Claire.” Jamie said simply, smiling softly. “I tried to forget ye in college, to shag my way out of what binds me to ye.  _I couldn’t._ ” He looked away for a moment, gazing at the waves breaking with a mighty clash. “And when I realized ye fancied Frank - that was the final kick for me to leave.”

“How could you know?” I stammered, incredulous. “No one knew back then. I thought you’d just figured it out not too long ago.”

“One day we were at the pub.” He explained with a hoarse voice. I felt like holding his hand for support, but there was a new code of conduct to discover between us –  _was it still alright to hold his hand?_ Was it still alright to banter and kiss his cheek goodbye, to stay on his couch while he slept because I liked his company anyway, to go to his house braless on a Sunday morning? “Frank said some hackit joke.  _Sae bad_ , not even Geillis laughed. But  _ye did_.” He exhaled deeply. “I knew it then. I wasna enjoying law school all that much and that heartbreak helped me making a hard choice.” A long pause and then his husky voice sounded, making my skin prickle. “It didna  _matter_. My heart stayed with ye.”

“You tried to push me towards Frank.” I said haltingly, stubbornly brushing curls away from my forehead. “Always advocating that I should tell him the truth. What was that about, if you – if you were  _fond of me_?”

He seemed to think carefully about my statement, breathing deeply the air that came from the sea. “Ye’re like a vine around my backbone,  _Sassenach_. And if at times I feel ye could grip and break me, until I’m no’ able to walk or function; most times I feel like ye sustain me and keep me standing upright.” He tilted his head and our eyes met, full on. “I wanted ye to be happy - if not wi’ me, then with  _someone_. But yer hesitancy gave me hope at some point, that yer feelings might have changed. That ye could see there is something beautiful between us.”

“I - I don’t know what to say.” I confessed, cradling my folded legs. My head felt very much like the eye of a storm, thoughts swirling in an uncontrollable crescendo towards shattered windows and fallen trees. “You’re  _my best friend;_ besides my mother, there’s no one else as important as you in my life. But my head is a mess and I don’t trust my feelings all that much right now.”

“Ye can dwell on it, for as long as ye need.” Jamie got up and brushed away sand from his perfectly perky bum. I had never been  _blind_ to his attractiveness - how handsome and striking Jamie truly was. But for the first time in our mutual knowledge, those realizations seemed to lack the protecting coat of friendship. “I can wait and we can talk some more.” He offered me his hand to help me up. “But I ken ye liked our kiss,  _my Sassenach_.”

***

I entered my cottage, feeling too overworked to even take out my jacket. My mother was standing in the kitchen, wearing my favourite apron - a housewarming gift from Jamie, back when we moved into the same neighbourhood -, while standing watch to a tray of brown chicken roasted in a bed of vegetables.

“You’re late.” She complained, mechanically plucking cabbage for some soup, without raising her eyes. “The chicken is so cold, it almost got up and left.”

I didn’t answer, struggling to find my voice, lost as it had been in all the intense words traded with Jamie. “Mum, I -”

“What’s the matter, darling?” My mother frowned in concern, when she finally glanced at me. “You’re so pale. Sit down and I’ll make you some tea.”

“Jamie kissed me.” I blurted out, fidgeting with my hands. “He said he loves me.  _He_  - he said he has  _always loved me_.”

My mother sighed and nodded decidedly once, then twice. “Whisky then. I’ll find you the biggest glass in the house.”


	7. Tease

##  **_Part VII –_**   ** _Tease_**

The fact that my mother immediately refilled my glass, after I gulped down more than half of its contents, was a true testament to the alarming levels of distress she sensed in me.

I half-hiccupped-half-blurted a short summary of what had transpired between me and Jamie. My mother listened intently, emitting soft reassuring and sympathetic sounds in all the appropriate moments. But when I finally put down my beaker, my hand trembling significantly less, I realized what was missing from her reaction.

_Surprise_.

Julia Beauchamp looked and sounded thoroughly impassive by Jamie’s axis-tilting-confessions.

“ _Oh my god_.” I covered my face with the palms of my hands, like a child playing peek-a-boo, feeling like the ultimate village idiot. “ _You knew_ , didn’t you?” I almost put my closed fist inside my mouth, pressing it against my lips. “You already knew Jamie had feelings for me.”

“Well, to be fair, I had ten years to learn how to read  _that look_  on a man’s face.” My mum smiled gently, her eyes and even the lines on her face –  _so like my own_  – softening considerably. “I learned with Henry. Your father made sure  _I knew_  every day we spent together.”

“How is it possible that everyone knows more about my own life than I?” I asked, feeling foolish, a woman made of mirrors whose reflection everyone easily caught sight of. “Why didn’t you bloody  _say something_ , mum?”

“I knew how you’d react – well,  _overreact_.” She pursed her lips significantly and side-eyed me, in such a judging motherly face that I almost laughed. “And it wasn’t my place, really. I didn’t want to cause a rift between the two of you – I did advise him to tell you everything, though.” My mother grinned wickedly. “I certainly didn’t think Jamie would go for a  _suck-face declaration_.”

“Mum!” I groaned, mortified, burying myself further into the velvety cushions of the couch. “I feel utterly stupid and thoughtless. All the times I must have hurt Jamie, because I didn’t know – all that I took from him, not guessing how much it meant.” My voice turned almost into a murmur. “And now – things will never be the same. They  _can’t be_.”

“Oh, hun.” My mother grabbed my right hand and rubbed it soothingly, her warm palms such a balm, that I felt like laying my head upon them and sleeping forever in their care. “That boy took note of everything you ever said to him. Is it such a terrible thing, to be loved by someone like that?”

“No.  _It’s not_.” I admitted haltingly, breathing deeply. “But what if I’m confusing things again? What if I’m just relieved that I can find some other man to romanticize?” I grimaced, brushing my forehead impatiently. “I cannot hurt Jamie, mum. That would proper gut me.”

“Well,” She caressed my curls, combing them with her fingers and putting a strand behind my ear. “The fact that you’re concerned for his feelings, more than with your own, tells me your heart is in the right place about this, darling. I’m sure Jamie would be happy to pace himself with you and help you figuring it all out.”

“You think I should go to him, then?” I questioned reluctantly, taking a final sip from my whisky.

“Sleep on it, lovie.” She smirked knowingly, going to the table to start carving the poor almost-forgotten-chicken. “And, if by any chance, you find in your heart that there is something more than friendship between you two – it so happens his house is just across the road and he’s a very early riser.”

***

Sleep was fragmented that night, in that whimsical way that happened when the brain was incapable of disconnecting, so my body seemed to be suspended in a state in between – unable to move, while everything flashed behind my eyelids, establishing peculiar patterns of light and soundless words.

Unable to settle, and getting more restless with each passing minute, I rose from bed at the first signs of dawn and rolled out my yoga mat on the porch –  to breathe the fresh air, that soothed the burning sensations inside my throat and chest, while I pushed my reluctant muscles and joints; but also to better monitor the time in which Jamie’s bedroom curtains finally opened to greet a new day.  

I showered quickly – rehearsing a couple of statements I wanted to get across ( _and cursing, a lot_ ), while holding a coconut shampoo bottle -, and before too long I was out of the house.

I paced fretfully on Jamie’s front porch - incapable of standing still -, as if the boards were ignited coals, burning through the soles of my sneakers. Eventually, I raised my fist and knocked on the door, a quick rhythm that mimicked my own heart. Time seemed to expand as I waited, impatiently stretching my legs by perilously balancing on my toes.

Jamie opened the door, wearing workout clothes (comfortable grey cotton shorts just above his knees, a sleeveless fitness shirt in marine tones that made me feel slightly lightheaded), undoubtedly preparing to leave for his intense day-off jog ( _ridiculous, committed, man_ ). He stared at me intently, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. “Ye knock now, Sassenach?”

“Well - “ My voice failed and I hawked, frazzled. “Well, I didn’t want to barge in, Duck. You could be naked – you know,  _undressed_ , just in your underwear  _or something_  and I just – erm - “ I jabbered, twisting my fingers, a deep flush spreading on my skin as if summoned by a commanding whistle, attuned only to me.

“How thoughtful of ye.” Jamie said with mischief, his eyes glancing at my attire (long sleeves in spite of the uncannily hot day, hair carefully composed into a fishtail braid propped over my left shoulder,  _very demure all round_ ). “Although, ye’ve seen me pretty much in the skud before. That risk never stopped ye from storming inside.”

I tilted my chin, looking at him in a significant manner. “Yes, it never stopped me… _Before_.”

“Before ye knew I wanted ye.” He completed softly. Silently, he stood aside and allowed me in, waving his firm hand in invitation.

I stepped in and swiftly closed the door behind me, but Jamie remained very close, his imposing frame blocking my advance in a way that I was almost trapped against the door.

“Ye wanted something from me, Sassenach?” He asked huskily, his eyes quickly drifting to my mouth and then to my eyes. I could smell his scent, salty like the sea in low tide with a hint of fresh cologne. “Ye look a tad peely wally.”

“We should talk.” I ventured, placing my palms against the grainy wood of the door behind me, steadying myself. “I have been thinking, you know.”

“Hm, about what?” He leaned towards me, no more than an inch, but enough for me to feel the heat of his broad chest; for me to see the tinny whispers of gold hidden in the depths of the sea that stormed in his eyes, as flickering lights trapped underneath the surface.

“You were right.” I raised my chin, facing him squarely. The intensity on his fine-looking face was disarming. “I  _did like_  the kiss. I liked it  _a lot_ , actually.” A beat, while I tried to process into words what I meant to say, all the while feeling the acute temptation of gluing my body against his, of having the slim frame of his hips pressing me against the door. Jamie’s hand came up, his sizable palm leaning on the door just next to my cheek. “And you see how that  _seems weird to me_ , since you’re my best mate and I shouldn’t daydream about  _shagging you_. Which that kiss made me do -  _a little_.”

“Aye. Ye seem to be in a pretty pickle.” An almost imperceptible movement, and then his thumb was delicately tracing the edge of my bottom lip and my legs almost crumbled, my body akin to flaky pastry on eager ( _starved_ ) hands. “But if by any chance ye want to tell me more about those… _musings_ , I’d be all ears.”

“There is something between us that I can’t quite yet put a label on.” I confessed slowly, my breathing shallow. “It might be more than friendship _. I think_   _it is_. Even before our smooch, I was already jealous of some woman who didn’t even exist. But I won’t risk our bond unless I know it’s the real deal.”

“And how do ye suppose we can find that out?” He tilted his head, his palm now resting on my cheek. “Ye’re the scientist here – do ye want to conduct a trial?”

“I want to spend time with you, Duck.” My lips felt dry and chapped, aching to be revived by his mouth. “ _I know you_  – not like the palms of my hands, because frankly I never paid attention to how crooked and forked they are. I know you more like the hunger on my belly after a long shift and like that ache on my left ankle when it’s humid. But I still have to see that side of you that could be a lover –  _my lover_.” I hummed softly, as he finally retreated a little, giving me more space. “If  _that’s alright._  I expect there will be some initial awkwardness.”

“Verra well.” The look on his face was pure happiness, interspersed with a pinch of cockiness and friskiness. “I was going out for a run, but ye’re welcome to stay and start – well,  _our date_ , I guess.” He offered me his outstretched hand, already kicking off his running shoes.

I immediately took his palm and he reverently guided me to the kitchen, where I helped him whipping up some mix batter for pancakes ( _my job basically consisting of offering unasked suggestions on the flour measurements and best toppings_ ).

Afterwards, we installed ourselves in front of the telly to watch a movie on  _Netflix_  ( _highly rated, with a couple of well-known actors_ ) that started pretty PG13 but quickly escalated to a soundtrack of moans and breathy incoherencies, as the protagonists consummated their passion on the cramped backseat of a car. I was braced against Jamie’s shoulder (his arm chastely enveloping my waist) and felt his body tensing, the way he trashed a little on the couch in discomfort.

“Well, this is interesting.” I whispered close to his ear, my hand distractedly tracing his collarbone. “Not exactly helping us in keeping our best behaviour. The true  _Netflix and chill_.”

He swallowed hard, but tried to laugh it off, undoubtedly striving to be respectful. “ _Lord Almighty_ , they surely are doggin’. Maybe we should switch to a documentary, Sassenach – one that isna about mating rituals, either.”

Struggling against a creeping sense of self-awareness, I raised my head and searched for his lips with mine. He remained very still, as the tip of my tongue contoured the shape of his mouth, lips brushing against each other without truly meeting. Jamie whimpered, his small sound like a broken thing for my hands to fix, and soon enough our tongues were colliding together, his hand gripping my waist in our half-seated-half-laid-down position.

I moved rapidly, almost crawling on top of his body, until I was straddling one of his legs, still breathing through his lungs like he possessed all remaining oxygen in the world.

I seemed to be made of fire, a true conflagration, both to consume and to be scorched; but even my urging need to grind against his powerful thigh was coated with something else. Because while Jamie was a lively and wonderful thing in my hands, I couldn’t seem to compartmentalize years of innocent camaraderie, of pure touches and actions, back when our bodies were just an extension of our friendship. Embarrassment and awkwardness loomed like high hills for us to climb, slowly but steadily.

It all flustered me senselessly, the awareness of my body and his –  _of the coming change_  -, and when Jamie’s fingertips glided on the side of my breast, I gently pushed against his chest to gaze into his eyes, a quiet apology brewing inside my own. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a tease.”

“I ken.” Jamie nodded and entwined our fingers. “It’s just too much for today, aye? Our first date, after all.”

“Yes.” I breathed out, framing his face with my hands. “Maybe we could go for that run after all.”

“Excellent.” He agreed, his sturdy arms – made to cut through waves and to defend people against the rage of the elements – gently depositing me on the couch beside him. “As soon as my blood finds its way  _past my groin again_.”

I roared with laughter and Jamie leaned down to blow a raspberry on my stomach.

That feeling of complete happiness within grasp _\- of endless possibility_  - would mercilessly haunt me within a few days, when an unyielding storm hit our shores.


	8. A Rush of Water

**_Part VIII –_** **_A Rush of Water_**

For the next week we spent as much time as humanly (and responsibly) possible, mostly outside the house to avoid the temptation of our bodies in closeness. We went for munro bagging ( _“Not my best plan for making you breathless”_ , Jamie joked), for shrimp tacos at our favourite mexican restaurant and for a live concert on the main square for the summer festival. We grew even closer and more accustomed to deliberately touch and steal kisses from each other, even if tentativeness still discovered us more often than not.

Sunday found us laying on the small beach close to our cottages, our bodies like two half-moons on the sky of a dark blue quilt, lazy and luminescent under the effect of sunlight. I was nestled on the crook of Jamie’s arm, wiggling my bare toes against the sand, as Jamie read aloud “ _His Dark Materials_ ”. His deep scottish accent, like molten caramel, oozed when he was relaxed, his fathomless blue eyes hidden behind his _Ray-Ban_ aviator sunglasses.

“Can ye move a little, Sassenach?” He asked eventually, rubbing the spot between my shoulderblades with his free hand. “My arm has gone numb and might die soon, if we stay like this.”

I regretfully raised my head and rolled on my belly, bracing myself against an elbow, while my other hand still enveloped his waist. “Alright. How do you want me?”

The line of his mouth narrowed in mischief, as he attempted to control a wicked smile; while is eyes quickly glanced at my arse, particularly prominent in my current position and majestically enhanced by my dark yoga pants. “I feel that is a somewhat _tricky_ question.”

I playfully pinched the skin between his clavicle and shoulder, wholeheartedly fighting the urge to laugh. “Raise that mind of yours from the gutter, Duck, or I might just squash you with my heavy cake-loving bum.”

“An honourable death.” He grinned, placing the open book - marking the page he had just been reading - close to his head. “Now how can I persuade you to go from vacant threats - although _terrible_ , mind - to actions?”

I raised a brow, quickly throwing a look around us - the beach was secluded and completely empty, save for a flock of seagulls that fought animatedly over the dry remnants of a stale sandwich next to a trash bin. A group of dark clouds was making the long trip from the horizon, their shapes reflecting like war ships on the quiet sea, discouraging any vereneants from impromptu summer plans by the water.

“Maybe if you apply all your considerable charm.” I suggested, sliding to place my leg between his, my bended knee dangerously close to the heat of him, while my hips rested fully against his thigh.

Jamie grunted, a whistling sound that became a sharp intake of air, when my coldish fingers started to draw spirals on the naked skin left exposed by the raised hem of his shirt, just above his hip. I could feel the goosebumps awaken by my touch, the inebriating power on my small fingertips; and I felt very much like laughing and weeping and rocking my body on top of his.

“ _Sassenach_ ,” He admonished, more than a little breathless, gripping my wrist to stop me from progressing further down. “Ye better stop that, if ye arena ready to go skinny dipping wi’me now.”

I half-kissed-half-licked the corner of his persuasive mouth, my palm opening against the quivering muscles of his abdomen. “Have you ever - _hmmm_ , _you know,_ on the sea?”

“Not in Scotland.” He took off his glasses, offering me a cocky smirk and stare, like a double punch for maximum effect. “There are kinder climates for a man’s bawbag.”

“Where then?” I pressed, curious. Jamie clearly decided I deserved to be made _uncomfortable too_ , because his generous palms started to caress the back of my thighs in languid and teasing motions, up and down, always stopping just before the swell of my buttocks. I might have shamelessly squirmed a little.

“ _Thailand_.” Jamie frowned, as if the recollection was placed so far away in his memory, that he almost had to squint to see it fully formed. “She was a backpacker too and we had travelled together since Laos. Eventually - well, _it happened_.” And I could tell by the tone in his voice that he wasn’t entirely proud that it had.

“What happened with her - _afterwards_?” I brushed my cheek against his in a tender motion, wordlessly trying to mitigate whatever pain that page of his past brought him. He squeezed me against him, as if afraid that I would vanish in the sand.

“She asked me who “ _Claire”_ was.” He traced my temple with his index finger, his sky-blue eyes darkening. “I had been calling yer name in my sleep.” Jamie pressed his lips into a fine line. “I’m not too proud of being a downright prick to her. But I honestly thought I had left ye behind - the thing is, ye always seem to find me wherever I go, Claire.”

We silently _\- solemnly_ \- stared into each other’s eyes for a long time, our foreheads and the tips of our noses bumping into each other.

“Well, maybe we can find a way to warm the scottish waters some day.” I smiled gingerly before I kissed his mouth.

***

Leaving my fridge coated with colourful post-its with written advice (“ _cherish J_ ”, _“don’t forget condoms!!”_ ), memorandums (“ _eat broccoli and cauliflower_ ”, “b _uy softer toilet paper_ ”, “ _do not bite your nails!_ ”) and pieces of general wisdom (“ _everything in moderation, including moderation”_ ), mum returned to Cardiff with the promise of visiting again in a few weeks.

Since we had mostly been hanging around Jamie’s cottage, I enjoyed the freedom to finally invite him for an intimate dinner at my place. We were supposed to meet after work for a nice meal (my pre-tested greatest hit of mushroom risotto, followed by chocolate mousse for dessert) and a decadent bottle of red wine; and if everything was a success, perhaps we would go for a _second course_ , with a toe-curling make out session on the couch in front of the fireplace.

I knew Jamie’s schedules could be somewhat erratic, due to the unpredictable nature of his work, so I started cooking when I got home without waiting for him. I was hungry, but above everything else I wanted us to have a relaxed and carefree time together.

The weather was positively dreadful, with a storm hitting the coast of Scotland in full force that day, and getting worse by the minute; I had to run outside to the car to get my phone and within those seconds managed to get entirely soaked through. The wind roared loudly and the trees waltzed like crazy ballerinas, their twigs a thousand arms forming curious shapes in the dusk.

Humming contentedly after changing clothes, I prepared everything and set the table for two, jumping in startelement when thunder boomed frighteningly near. The lamp above my head flickered ominously, and I decided to light a couple of candles, with the double intent of creating an ambience and to avoid complete darkness in case the power went off.

With all preparations completed, I watched the news (a mix of political disaster, small floods and incidents from the storm and controversial sports results), distractedly gnawing on a small crust of bread. I glanced at the clock every now and then, watching with increasing apprehension as time slowly advanced without delivering Jamie to me.

Worried that he might be driving home, his advance undoubtedly hindered by the weather, I sent him a text (“ _All this food and no one to share it with. Get here asap, Duck_ ”). Another half an hour passed, without Jamie’s arrival or any answer to my message.

Feeling seriously rattled, I paced in the living room, picking up random objects only to set them down within a moment, unable to focus. Shivers shooting down my spine, as if thunder had found its way through me, I retrieved my phone and called Jamie.

I anxiously awaited to hear his voice - haphazardly explaining the delay and assuring me he would be home in a few minutes - but after a series of beep signals it went straight to voicemail (“ _It’s Jamie here. I can’t answer right now. This is when ye leave me a message, mum_ ”). I swallowed hard and croaked a _“Call me Jamie, please...call me”_ to the phone, gripping the device between my hands. A couple of fevered attempts followed with the same result, leaving me with tears in my eyes and a single terrible thought.

_Something was wrong_.

Fighting against panicked tears that kept rolling down my cheeks, I scoured my phone for Gavin Hayes’ number, my thumbs sloppy enough on the screen to make me curse and sob. Fortunately, Jamie’s friend and coworker answered after a couple of beats.

“Claire.” He said slowly, his voice sounding very strained. “I was about to call ye.”

“Where is Jamie?” I asked without preamble, rubbing my forehead. “ _Please_ Gavin, tell me - I know _something happened_. I need to know.”

“Jamie went out with the rescue team. A sailing boat ignored the warnings to return to harbour and got into serious trouble.” Hayes explained softly. I could sense he was covering the phone with his hand, to keep the hectic noise from the _HM Coastguard Operation Centre_ at bay. “The helicopter was taking a massive beating wi’ the winds and such, and they were running low on fuel already, so it had to return to base.” A prolonged hesitation and I already knew what he was going to say next. _No, please no_. “Jamie refused to leave without the victims. He stayed behind in the water and communications failed.”

“He’s _missing_.” I whispered numbly, my body slumping on the floor in a half-seated position. The rain pattered incessantly on the window, teasing me with its force.

“They’ve gone back for him.” Gavin explained hurriedly, trying as much to convince himself as to ease me. “Jamie is the best diver we have. If anyone can make it, I’ll be damned if it’s not him. He’ll light the signal flare and they’ll find him.”

“ _I’m coming there_.” I announced, scrambling to get up and put my boots and jacket on.

“Claire, ye canna drive here in this weather.” Gavin tried to reason. “It’s too dangerous, don’t -” I could hear muffled shouts in the background, but I was already disconnecting the call and heading towards the door.

When I managed to enter my car, the parka I was wearing seemed like a heavy blanket, dragging me down with its soaken weight. I blasted the windscreen wipers to maximum speed - although they barely made an indent in the veritable waterfall running down the vehicle and couldn’t touch the moistness in my own eyes - and drove blindly down the coastal road. If it hadn’t been for my deep knowledge of the area, I’d have ended rolled over on a cliff.

All the while, as I geared up and down the flooded curves and narrow paths, I thought of Jamie.

I thought of all the things I still had to tell him, that were only starting to form in that irrational second brain that was my heart. I thought about his body, the exquisite way I unravelled it a little every day, unintentionally unravelling myself in the process. I remembered the small, uncountable, ways in which he had always showed me he loved me - _an omelette with a smiley face made of blushed tomatoes after a rough shift; a pair of bespoke sneakers for my birthday, because I had a crooked little finger that made most pairs slightly uncomfortable; the postcards he never failed to sent me on his travels, when in all truth he wished to forget me; the late night calls to tell me of this song he thought I’d like; the seal impersonation he did when I was a little sad and defeated._

_Please, let there be time for me to show him, too._

The floodlights of the _Operation Centre_ were like helpless fireflies at distance, a moving target for my wild ride in the eye of the storm. I gripped the steering wheel as hard as I could, fighting against everything that battled to keep me away, as the car’s tires constantly skidded on the road.

The vehicle finally entered the car park with a half-spin as I slammed on the brakes, just in time to witness the arrival of a helicopter coming from the sea and braving the storm - transporting two almost-drowned victims and a _very frozen rescue diver_.

 


	9. Law of Cooling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW and just one chapter to go! <3

##  **_Part IX –_**   ** _Law of Cooling_**

I wouldn’t recall with clarity the moments immediately before and after the  _HM Coastguard_  helicopter touched ground, amidst the competing roars of wind and propellers, as I awaited ( _petrified_ ) on the helipad. I had argued, threatened and begged my way into the restricted area, with no small amount of help from Jamie’s close mates. Two members of the cabin crew jumped outside as soon as it was deemed safe by the ground team, transporting a stretcher with one of the shipwreck victims, visibly distressed; but my eyes saw nothing but the exhausted redheaded diver erupting from the helicopter, bundled in a heating blanket. He walked slightly unbalanced and was promptly bolstered by another member of the force, until our eyes met.

“Jamie!” I blurted, mindlessly running towards him. I crushed him inside my arms – somehow, for once, I felt that my insignificant body was enough to enfold him whole -, sobbing and inhaling the fishy and slightly oily smell of his skin and gear. “You scared the bloody hell out of me!”

“Sassenach.” He stammered, his jaw tense, and I realized he was forcing his teeth not to rattle, like castanets of a Spanish dancer. The rim of his eyelids, generous lips and short-clipped nails were a shade between purple and blue. “Crivens, maybe ye think I wasna frightened, too?”

“You’re not allowed,” I sniffed, not-so-discreetly kissing the side of his jaw, engrossed by the need to know him real and safe. “Only one of us can be scared at a time, and it’s my turn.”

We limped unstably like a crippled four-legged monster towards the ambulance stationed close by, the first responders ready to do a meticulous assessment and to transport Jamie to the  _Royal Infirmary_ for a complete examination. But after having his blood pressure checked, his chest auscultated and his pupils flashed with a lantern, Jamie was adamant that he was  _“tekul”,_ only in dire need of a hot bath and extra-blankets on his own bed. We had a short but heated squabble, as I insisted that he followed protocol instead of being “ _pigheaded and a wallaper_ ” and Jamie stated that I was being a “ _tadger_ ”, instead of  _“winching him properly”._

Making no secret of my deep annoyance, I agreed to drive him home – the full-blown storm kindly starting to fade a little, perhaps sleepy in the first hours of dawn after a hard night out. Jamie was wrapped up in a cocoon of coats and quilts, trying to fight the bone-deep chill of prolonged immersion in the  _North Sea_. I stubbornly fought the impulse to fluff his blanket as my heart craved, making a point of my grievance, and drove in silence as Jamie dozed on and off.

Along the road, I had to get out of the car on a couple of occasions, to drag thick fallen branches away from our path, nature’s own sacrifice to the mayhem caused by its stormy ( _ill-tempered_ ) daughter. Eventually, we reached Jamie’s cottage and I helped him inside.

“Let’s get straight into the shower.” I commanded with my  _best professional-who-doesn’t-take-shit tone_. Jamie’s body was racked with abrupt spasms, the cold a physical thing attached to his back like a crippling parasite.

“Ye’re coming too, then?” Jamie raised a brow comically and grinned – his face contorting in a strange grimace, since every muscle was strained – and I puffed in indignation and pointed to the bathroom door with a commanding finger.

“Let me know when you’re done.” I squinted tiredly, trying to hold back a thunderous yawn. “I still want to make sure you don’t have any minor trauma.”

He dragged himself to the bathroom, starting to strip along the way – I caught an _unsettling_  glance of his naked lower back -, mumbling in  _Gaelic_. I plunged into the couch next do Adso, partially lulled by the sound of the running shower and of the light rain tapping of the window, relief washing over me in a way that almost made me queasy. When the water finally stopped, I raised from the couch and virtually glued my ear to the door, wanting to make sure Jamie hadn’t collapsed on the floor from hypothermia or some horrific hidden injury.

“Sassenach, I –“ Jaime partially opened the door to call out to me and I lost my balance, spectacularly thumping my forehead against it. “ _Instant karma_ , do ye think?” He snorted, bracing me for support, nonetheless.

I rubbed my head, flustered, a state that didn’t benefit from the realization that Jamie was standing  _naked_ , save for a grey towel wrapped around his waist and for the sparse copper hairs standing on end. I did my best to ignore it, as I stepped into the piping hot bathroom with him.

“Any pain in the lower quadrants of your abdomen?” I prodded his belly with a couple of analytical fingers, making him groan impatiently and swat my hand lightly. “Does your lower back hurt?”

“Aye. I have a nagging pain in my backside.” He rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows suggestively in my direction, crossing his arms in contempt. “If I wanted a bloody doctor all over my wame, fussing and lecturing, I’d have gone to the A&E.”

“So,  _what_  do you want me to do, Duck?” I bit down every word heatedly, my posture mimicking his own, as I felt thoroughly cross after the rush of fear and uncertainty. “Pat your back and coo a  _“well done!”_  for almost having yourself killed, by recklessness and a complete lack of any kind of self-preservation instincts?”

“Do ye want me to tell ye the truth?” His eyes darkened, as if they had retained a significant piece of the wild storm he had faced, thunder rolling continually on the back of his irises. “About  _what I want_ right now?”

“I daresay you never had qualms about sharing a piece of your mind before.” My voice sounded slightly shrill, with hints of a distress that had shrunk me from the inside out, like the noise of a crumpled paper returning to shape. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“I want  _verra badly_  for ye to get naked in front of me.” Jamie said hoarsely, his lips the shade of ripe woodland fruits, smashed berries with the sweet juice flowing and tinting everything along the way. His skin seemed perpetually goosebumped, even as steam arose from his half-naked body. “And make me forget this day ever happened.”

I opened and closed my mouth in rapid succession, stunned out of my ability for speech and general coherence.

“Well, that did a bonny job of quieting the physician.” He remarked boldly, tilting his head. Jamie was shivering again, not in that teeth-rattling, uncontrolled, way; but in that quiet manner of waving fields swept by the zephyr in summer. “I’m sorry, though. I didna mean to put ye on the spot. I ken that we agreed to take things slowly, but it’s the only thing on my mind right this second.”

“You’re still shivering.” I remarked, dumbfounded, not knowing what to answer except that my heart seemed to be on the brink of exploding inside my chest. I had longed –  _prayed_  – for the chance to show Jamie that  _I wanted him_ ; the opportunity stood in front of me now,  _still chilled and dripping,_  presenting a humorous façade to hide how fragile and strained he truly felt. “That’s the  _Law of Cooling_  for you.” I explained, avoiding to glance at a fugitive drop running down his chest, deep into the lowlands of his chiselled body. “Since you’re the coolest thing in this room, I expect heat will be running towards you and soon enough you’ll be warm as toast.”

“I’m cold now,” Jamie said very softly. “I’m verra cold.”

I don’t know what finally made me move. Maybe I had been moving all along, in that quiet and mindless way a planet gravitates around a stellar body, focused only on its orbit while oblivious of the greater scheme of things. With a swish of fabric - while obstinately staring at an innocent point on Jamie shoulder, a tinny ancient scar shaped like a seven-pointed star - I took off my jumper in one swift movement.

Feeling all the heat in the world draining into my cheeks ( _law of cooling be damned_ ), I coyly raised my eyes to see Jamie’s awed expression, the quaint set of his mouth as if he was stopping himself from spilling all the words inside,  _all at once_. The black lacy triangle bralette I was wearing underneath felt absurdly flimsy, despite me rationally knowing that Jamie had seen me wearing a quite more scandalous bikini at the pool on several occasions. But it was personal this time around –  _it was only meant for his eyes._  It was the promise of  _what was coming next_.

Raising my chin in self-defiance, I unclasped the undergarment behind my back, almost jumping in startlement with the touch of my own palm. With my curls coming alive in a furious manner over my forehead, due to all the humidity and electrical forces of the night, I made a slow spectacle of dropping it to the floor at my feet.

Jamie looked at me like he was trying to puzzle the most mysterious and rapturing sight of his existence, while clearly struggling not to gaze solely at my breasts; I gracelessly stared back at him, feeling inelegant, self-conscious and strangely aroused. He swallowed hard, the column of his throat bobbing noticeably, and stepped towards me.

I gasped and awkwardly covered my breasts with my forearms and hands, feeling on the verge of something simultaneously terrifying and enticing ( _on the verge of myself, of everything I’d ever known_ ). I wanted the man that once was my best friend to touch me, to taste me,  _to disassemble me_  – but it still felt like something out of a strange, fetishy, dream; of a parallel reality that didn’t rightfully belong to me. “I’m sorry.” I murmured, struggling to breathe normally in his vicinity. “I –“

Jamie raised his palm, silencing me, his eyes knowing and tender. He padded slowly in my direction, every step a deliberate act, to allow me time to accommodate and to step back if I wished to. I thought he would stop in front of me – perhaps hug me in reassurance or kiss my lips in desire –, but instead he circled my still body and I felt his presence behind me, brushing my hair to the side.

His hot breath on the back of my neck made me shiver – for the first time that night, we were both trembling. The anticipation was a creature with teeth, gnawing at me mercilessly, grazing the heated insides of my thighs with its sharp fangs. Jamie’s hands lightly caressed my bare shoulders, and I felt the pressure of his parted moist lips against the pronounced swell of my spine on the back of my neck, kissing and then sucking slowly, making me pant audibly. His palms unhurriedly glided along the outline of my arms, until his hands were juxtaposed with mine against the curve of my breasts, not in demand but in pure comfort.

“Is this alright?” Jamie asked huskily, planting small kisses on the curve of my neck, gently brushing his stubble against my sensitive skin, until my knees almost buckled. I leaned against him, feeling the bulge of his significant arousal under the towel, achingly pressed against my hip.

“Yes.” I sighed, slowly letting the shields of my hands drop away from my body. “Will you touch me, Jamie?”

“Tell me what ye like.” He whispered against my ear, gently biting the edge of my helix, with just enough force to make me wiggle a little against him. “I ken that ye like yer rice slightly overcooked, yer toast overly buttered and yer mattress hard as a rock. I ken most things about ye already, Sassenach – but  _this_  ye’ll have to teach me.” The tip of his fingers circled my nipples patiently ( _maddening torture for such a willing victim_ ), teasing me in time with his sensual words. “Tell me  _what ye like_ , my Claire.”

“I –“ My mouth felt like something foreign to my body and I desperately moistened my lips, attempting to recall the way of words. “I like it gentle at first. And then slightly rough.” He rapidly pinched the delicate skin of my nipple in response to my instructions, making me hiss and buckle against him. “I – I like to hear you talking.  _What you’ll do – how it feels_.”

“I can do that.” His throaty laugh reverberated against my ribs, trespassing me clean through, as his touch ventured slowly down my ribcage and into my belly, his thumb pressing against the hollow space of my bellybutton. “Ye feel just like ye did in my dreams -  _sae soft_  and  _bonny_  and  _plump_. Except I didna imagine how yer skin would turn pink and glow; and that ye’d hum something fierce when I touch ye somewhere ye like.” Jamie purred contently, gripping my waist further against him, as he kissed and bit my shoulder with abandon. “As to  _what I’ll do_  – well,” He swiftly turned me on his arms and kissed me fully on the mouth, scorching and full of intent. “Whatever it takes to make ye _squirm_  and  _break_ and  _cry out –_ knowing I was the one who did it for ye.”

“May I touch you too?” I requested, already tracing his iliac bone with my fingers, making a fiery path to the bulge of him. “I want to know what you like, too.”

“ _I like it with ye_.” He sighed, as I palmed the considerable length noticeable under the fabric, my efforts aided by the slight coarseness of the towel, rubbing against him. “ _Christ_ , Sassenach. I need to take yer pants off.” And so he did, agonizingly slowly and saluting every inch of newly exposed skin with long kisses, exhibiting that preternatural sense that always seemed to guide him to the things that drove me crazy. He groaned when the pace of my hand increased, and made quick work of finding me ( _ready, yearning_ ) with two fingers underneath my insubstantial knickers. “Maybe I died in that sea after all, but I dinna care just now.”

We touched each other, measuring the pace of our movements by our own response, until we were both panting and sweating. Sometime along the way I got completely rid of Jamie’s towel, touching the realness of his throbbing skin.

“Ye need to stop.” Jamie moaned loudly, eventually grabbing my wrist to deter me. “If I’m to come,  _I want to be inside ye_.” His tongue traced my bottom lip, his powerful hands kneading my round buttocks. “I’ll take ye to the bedroom.”

“ _No_.” I shook my head, backing off towards the bathroom wall and sliding my remaining underwear off in the process. “I want you right here,  _right now.”_

He stared at me, quiet and predatory, taking in the fact of my complete nakedness. Everything in me ached and throbbed, a pain that wasn’t the result of something taken away, but of the need for a perfect fit,  _for another half_.  _The need for him_. Jamie sauntered to me, adoringly kissing the peaks of my breasts and my forehead, while I hooked one of my legs around his waist.

Jamie played dirty, teasing me relentlessly in circular movements without fully thrusting inside. I whimpered and cursed, urging him to meet me deeper, but he laughed ( _a joyful, slightly broken, sound_ ) and persisted on the task of making me cry out in frustration.

I touched his cheek with my palm, locking our eyes together. “When you told me you loved me – you said that sometimes what you felt was in the back of your eyes and between your shoulders.” I swallowed hard, feeling utterly consumed by tenderness and desire. “I think – I think what I feel is  _everywhere_  just now.  _You’re everywhere_.”

Jamie pressed his forehead against mine and buried himself to the hilt in one swift movement, our eyes never turning away, breathing and moaning into each other’s mouths.

When we were finally done, sliding down the wall like sated droplets of water, his body felt like the warmest thing in the world.


	10. And Then We Start

##  **_Part X –_**   ** _And Then We Start_**

“Mum, I’m going over Jamie’s house to watch a movie.” I explained nonchalantly, peeking through the door to the living room, where my mother was watching a talent show, while nibbling plump strawberries.

“Me and your father were big _on cinema_  too…” A dramatic pause, as she grinned and glanced over to me. “…Just around the time I got pregnant.”

“Hold your horses grandma, and don’t start any knitting extravaganza just yet.” I replied dryly, scrunching my nose, even as a volcanic blush crept along my neck. “We have been seeing each other for what - thirty seconds? Hardly  _prime-parent-material_  just yet.”

“Can you imagine?” She continued in a dreamy voice, and I could swear falling stars shone inside her eyes, trailing quickly across the firmament of her imagination. “A little lady, with curly red-hair and amber eyes? Or a little _lad_ , talking just like Jamie, your own _duckling?_ ”

“Well, I’m going, before you decide the names of my future children, the schools they are to attend and their future careers.” I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my mouth pulled up on a tender smile - my heart was melting, _just a little_ , when confronted with those sweet and hopeful images. “You were never like this with any of my previous boyfriends, though. What’s up with that?”

“You never smiled like _a fool_ when going out to meet them, _too_. A lot of  _firsts_  here.” My mother shot me a victorious look, swallowing the last red fruit in her bowl. “Some of them were nice young men. But  _I know Jamie_ \- and _he knows you_. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of you as he will, when I’m gone some day.”

My chest tightened, the most bittersweet blend of love and preemptive longing gripping me viciously, and I padded to her and smacked her forehead with my lips, putting all my devotion in that silent kiss. “Let’s agree that those days are _very_  far away. Who would spoil rotten my hypothetical children, if you weren’t around?”

“Such good incentive to keep up with my veggies.” She patted my cheek tenderly, offering me a reassuring wink. “Is everything set for tomorrow, sweetheart? Need any help with your dress?”

“It’s ironed and ready to go.” I had carefully prepared my aqua bridesmaid dress (fitting me perfectly,  _thank God_ ) and left it hanging inside my closet. “I might need you to do some of that  _motherly-special-voodoo-magic_  with my hair, though.”

“Sorted.” My mum laughed, a very respectable cackle for a  _modern-day-hairdresser-witch_. I waved and marched towards the door, only to hear a chanted cheer of “ _have fuuuuuun_ ”.

After the storm, Jamie and I had stayed together the next twenty-three hours ( _and fifteen minutes_ ), only parting when I finally had to go back to work at the hospital. During those lazy –  _ethereal_ – hours, I had begun the process of making a mental instruction handbook on the ways in which I could take him apart and assemble him again. It was the first time I slept in Jamie’s arms, thinking he might dream of me.

For the next couple of days work had kept us mostly apart and I felt a constant discomfort, like the nagging buzzing of a swarm raising on the hive of my ribcage; a persistent hunger to swallow his moans, the way he said my name when he came.

I quickly crossed the street and opened the front gate to his cottage - immersed in thoughts about the breadth of his shoulders, and the resolute set of his mouth somewhere on my navel – and grinned when I noticed the doorknob.

When I knocked on the door, Jamie opened it almost immediately, as if he had been pacing beside it awaiting my arrival. I dangled the  _Voldemort_  funko pop keychain around my index finger, grinning wickedly. “It seems I might be too late. Do you already have company, Duck?”

“Maybe. Do ye want to _join us_ , Sassenach?” He asked in a provocative low voice, almost a purr, leaning over to kiss my temple ( _a too-long touch of lips, red-hot_ ). “Or maybe I knew  _ye’d be coming over tonight_.”

“How presumptuous of you.” I brushed my mouth against his in greeting, trapping a small portion of fragile skin between my teeth, until he emitted a faint  _“Ah”_. “I didn’t know you were so cocksure, James Fraser.”

“My cock is _sure_  and so am I.” Jamie raised a brow and enveloped my waist with his fingers,  _a sure grip_ , drawing relentless lemniscates ( _infinities, for him to give me_ ) progressively lower on my right iliac crest. “Get yerself inside, lass, before I roger ye on the front porch for the entire world to see.”

“No,  _really_ , I just came to visit Adso.” I raised my brows coquettishly and tiptoed to look over his shoulder inside the house, as if thoroughly searching for the smart feline. “Is he available?”

Jamie groaned dangerously and I innocently stepped inside, batting my eyelashes, and slammed the door shut behind me; faster than lightning I jumped, and Jamie caught me mid-air - like some cheesy thing taken out of a dance choreography - my legs wrapping around his waist, as we ravished each other’s mouths.

“God, I missed that  _mouth of yers_. This time I’m taking ye to my bed.” Jamie said in a rumble, his palms gripping my arse clad in dark jeans, as he ferociously sucked the skin of my neck. I foresaw some real issues with hiding a compromising hickey with makeup the next day, but couldn’t conjure up enough strength of character to complain.  “I need to watch ye there,  _naked and mine_.”

***

“What are you wearing for the wedding?” I lazily traced Jamie’s clavicle, making that perilous jump to the sternum, all the while feeling the gentle moistness of our lovemaking like a second skin of his.

“You’ll see tomorrow.” His voice sounded a little smug ( _amused by the thought of leaving me to guess, of me wanting to know at all_ ), as he kneaded the tiny spaces between my spinous processes. “I canna wait to see ye wearing a bonny dress, Sassenach; and for the first time being able to tell ye how beautiful I think ye are, without feeling utterly daft.”

“Shouldn’t we match or something?” I joked lamely after kissing him slow and deep, continuing the fascinating trail down his pectoral muscles, stuck on shilly-shally mode - what I truly meant to ask was  _“Will we go as a couple?_ ”. “If you’re wearing bumblebee yellow it might get a little grotesque.”

“Do ye want to go together?” Jamie pulled my chin up to look at him, sounding hopeful. “We havena talked about it and I didna want to presume. I know our relationship is still fairly new.” He smooched the tip of my nose, winking in a playful manner to ease some of the tension. “I didna want to force ye to go with this proper munter.”

I pretended to consider his words, biting my bottom lip. “Yes, it would be a  _tremendous sacrifice._  I’m sure every woman in that venue would think me some kind of martyr for accompanying  _you_.” I opened my hands and waved them above his body, enhancing the ridicule of my words and how absolutely striking his figure was. “I’d like for us to go together.” I said softly, words so hushed it was almost as if I was sharing an intimate secret, a surreptitious daydream ( _it was_ ). “If that’s alright with you.”

“Aye.” Jamie grinned happily from ear to ear, unhurriedly fondling the dangerous area of my upper thighs, in close vicinity to the curve of my arse. “May I kiss ye in public then? Even with all of our friends there?”

“If you feel the urge.” I shrugged, nuzzling the space between his pinkish nipples, where his musky and beguiling scent seemed to pump from his very heart. “I say we do as we feel, and don’t give a  _fuck_ about what others think.”

“Oh,  _I’ll feel the urge_.” Jamie assured me wholeheartedly, his thumb brushing the equatorial line of my body ( _north and south in permanent battle for his attentions_ ), charting meridians in me where other explorers had been too blind to see anything. “In fact, I’m already feeling a fearsome need to taste ye again.”

“I thought we were talking.” I schooled him, although I could feel the rush of blood singing in my veins, summoned to the places where his voice seemed to echo in my body. “ _Serious heart-to-heart_  and such.”

“Ye can keep talking, Sassenach.” He agilely rolled on top of me, giving me such a sultry look that I swallowed hard and long, before he slid down to position himself between my legs. “My mouth will be busy, but I’m all ears.”

***

Feeling empowered by my tamed curls and flattering dress - although very modest on the top, with no sleeves and a completely covered round neck, the skirt sported a lateral slit that reached the middle of my thigh -, I opened the door of my house to receive Jamie with my best killer pose.

It took me a couple of minutes to realize he had whistled and complimented me vigorously on my own attire, since Jamie was clad in a formal kilt with a grey jacket, waistcoat and matching tie. He had never looked as _dashing_  and uniquely  _him_ ; I was legitimately awestruck.

“Ye like it, then?” He raised a brow and twirled a little, making me snort and reacquire a semblance of composure. “I’ll let ye peek underneath later; but only because ye’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Claire.”

Jamie drove us in his car, while we contentedly babbled about our expectations for the wedding and the nice weather we had been gifted for the occasion. Jamie’s hand seemed to have trouble in finding enough willpower to leave my bare knee, even as we got out of the car in the parking area of the estate where the wedding was being celebrated. Everything looked swanky and well-planned, fragrant white peonies covering the structure of the altar where the officiant would bind Geillis and Frank for life.

“Hello!” I greeted Mary and Dottie, hugging them. “You look lush, ladies.”

“Ye look splendid yerself, Claire.” Mary smiled pleasantly, her eyes jumping from me to Jamie, widening significantly once she noticed our hands, discreetly entwined. “Do you want to tell us something, hmmm?”

“ _Maybe later_.” I chuckled, locking my eyes with Jamie’s in a complicit gaze. “I definitely made the right choice back at that game in Glasgow, though.”

The ceremony was simple yet beautiful, straightforward like the bride’s personality, and I teared up when I saw Geillis walking down the aisle, her ivory dress crowned by the most dazzling smile. Their vows spoke of their shared journey, of life after they had chosen to walk on the same single path; and I couldn’t help but to think of how much I’d have to say about the man sitting beside me, who had waited for my love to arrive without any impatience or reproach, holding my hand like it was a true privilege ( _the castle in the air where we both lived)_.

The wedding reception saluted us with copious amounts of food and drink, until toasts moved from emotional to indecorous, fragments of private jokes and well-wishes like balloons finding their way through the open flaps of the wedding reception tent. Eventually, the newlyweds inaugurated the dancefloor with a hilarious dance mashup, and Jamie soon asked me if I wanted to boogie.

“Does it pain ye - seeing them together?” Jamie asked softly, holding my hand and guiding me to the dancefloor, his fingers lightly caressing my knuckles. “I ken that ye  _want me_  and that our connection grows stronger every day.” He moistened his lips, gluing our bodies together, as we started to sway along with the first notes of an old Elvis ballad. “But for the longest time, ye thought he might be yer future. It’d be perfectly normal if ye felt - well,  _some ache._ ”

“The only things paining me are my feet, Duck.” I assured him in earnest and touched his lips with mine with a newfound tenderness, trying to pour into that brief meeting everything that I felt for him ( _yearning, fondness, friendship, devotion, intimacy, besottedness, passion, love. Feelings too complex and immense even for words to encompass_ ). “I haven’t given Frank a single thought today, besides wishing him and Geillis true happiness.” I guaranteed with sincerity, placing my cheek against the curve of his shoulder, feeling almost boneless.  _My favourite place in the world_. “Everything is as it should be.”

“You and I?” He offered me a lopsided smile, the renewed promise of all stars hidden in the sky that lived permanently in his eyes, for me to name and trace infinite constellations with.

“You and I.” I nodded in agreement, kissing the lobe of his ear before I sang along with Elvis, just for him. “ _For I can’t help falling in love with you.._.”

    ** _The End_** ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the credits roll and blast “Just Like Heaven” as these goobers dance the night away and we take some rest from their adventures. I’m trying to figure out if there’s more to tell on their story (an Arc II, ficlets…) without losing the amazing feeling of joy that accompanied me every step of the way. I want to do right by them, and by you. THANK YOU for reading, for taking another chance at one of my stories. So much love for you all that took the journey with me. See you soon! Quack! X


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